


Nightmare's Embrace

by RedFox13



Category: Bloodborne
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cannon Divergent, F/M, Gascoigne's girls won't die, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Crying, New Game Plus, Nobody Dies, TLC, Trauma, reader input welcome, the ending everyone wanted, the good hunter has issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFox13/pseuds/RedFox13
Summary: A hunter's dying wish was to atone for his sins. The Moon Presence grants his request and the nightmare begins again.
Relationships: Old Hunter Henryk/ Eileen the Crow, The Good Hunter/ Lady Maria, The Good Hunter/ Queen Annalise of the Vilebloods
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fan fiction was based off of one of my recent Bloodborne builds. I used the weary wanderer character creation from youtube and did an arcane build with a fire saw cleaver and hunter pistol. This story is about the hunter in NG+.

Alastair knelt amidst a field of pale flowers, before him an ancient towering oak swayed in the gentle breeze. Behind him he heard the soft wheeze of the Old Hunter Gehrman as he hobbled towards him. The night was at an end, the hunt was over, the first pale rays of sunlight lingered just beyond the horizon.  
Alastair didn't flinch as he felt the icy cold steel of Gehrman's scythe at his throat, he knew this was his fate. He was ready for this nightmare to end, all he wanted now was the sleep of death. As the old hunter readied himself to strike Alastair gave a silent prayer for all who died that horrible night. Quietly he wished he could've done things differently, so many lives were lost because of him, either by his hand or by his attempts to help.

Looking down from the clouded sky the nameless Moon Presence watched on. It's long dark tentacles twitched in curiosity as the remorseful hunter's prayer reached its ears, or rather its mind since it heard the thoughts of everything around it. It's gaping void of a mouth contorted into a passable grin as the hunter was decapitated. Gehrman returned to his chair and soon left for his favorite spot in the garden. With the field deserted the eldritch creature descended without a sound. Long bony fingers gently wrapped around the dead hunter and scooped him off the ground. Ascending back to the sky the creature opened a rift into another realm. All this time the plain doll stood quietly outside the burning workshop, she raised her hands in prayer as the hunter was taken away. "Farewell Good Hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world." She whispered sadly.

\----------------

Alastair woke with a splitting headache, he groaned as his gloved hand massaged his throbbing temples. His golden eyes blinked open and he found himself staring at a very familiar and well worn chandelier. Panicked he shot up to find himself lying on a cold steel surgery table, it couldn't possibly be. How did he get here? Looking around he recognized the decrepit clinic that was under Iosefka's care. Crawling off the table he looked himself over, he was still in his hunter attire and had his weapons from the previous night. Walking over to a chair nearby he picked up a crumbling scrap of yellowed paper, on it in a faded scrawling hand was written: Seek Paleblood to transcend the hunt!

"Gods not this again?!!" Alastair groaned as he wadded up the paper and tossed it away. A sickening feeling made his stomach turn, did he really get set free just to endure the hellish night of the hunt all over again?!! With an irritated sigh he went to the door, pushing on them they creaked open. Drawing his saw cleaver and pistol he crept down the stairs and into the next room. The ethereal lantern and it's comforting purple glow were gone.

Up ahead he heard the sickening crunch of breaking bones. Checking his weapons he loaded his pistol and proceeded cautiously. Across the room he spotted the disheveled werewolf that killed him before, it was focused on devouring the beastly citizen that was unfortunate enough to wander in. It's empty eyes were staring at nothing in particular as it mouth hung open in a silent scream. Any disappointment he had gave way to anger, charging the beast he transformed his cleaver and hit it as hard as he could in its skull. The werewolf screamed as it erupted in flames, the stench of charred flesh filled the room. Alastair coughed and hacked as he stepped over the corpse, he needed a breath of fresh air.

Walking fast he exited the clinic and stepped into the gated courtyard. Tugging his mask away he sat down against a crumbling tombstone, removing his hat he wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead. "How could this happen?" He sighed. "What did I do to suffer this punishment?!!" His voice cracked as tears started trickling down his cheeks. He broke down and sobbed as loudly as he dared without drawing attention. It slowly began to dawn on him that he would have to endure the horror of the hunt all over again, he would watch everyone die again. And worst of all he would suffer death after agonizing death, the last night left him broken. What would this one do to him?

His sobs gradually turned to laughs, these were not a joyful kind but one of a mind on the brink of madness. Here he was laughing his ass off and crying a river in a forsaken hell on earth, in the distance a deranged cackling joined his own. Eventually he managed to pull himself together, he couldn't sit there and cry all night or he'd be there forever. Wiping his face on his sleeve he stood and put on his hat and mask. Picking up his weapons he made for the gate and gave it a good shove. Despite everything he was still a hunter and a hunter must hunt.

Going down the steps directly in front of him he leaned on the wrought iron fence and gazed into the darkened city below. A gentle breeze blew carrying smoke, flecks of ash, and the putrid stench of decay. The sky overhead was blazing orange mirroring the countless fires burning across the city. Scanning the area he spied the massive gate leading into the heart of Central Yharnam, it was locked tight as if he'd never been there. The lever that opened it was just out of reach meaning he'd have to go the long way around. That meant fighting off the horde of beastly citizens wielding all manner of farm tools.

A phantom pain made his stomach twinge, he remembered all the times he's been on the receiving end of a pitchfork. He wasn't keen on making that mistake again. The grating sound of metal against cobblestone caught his attention, another of the demented townsfolk walked alongside a broken down carriage dragging a rusted axe behind him. His skin itched at the memory of being bludgeoned to death with a torch. Not wanting to stand there any longer he readied himself and approached his prey.

Using the carriage for cover he crept up and waited for the enemy to round the corner. Alastair raised his pistol and squeezed off a shot just as the beastly citizen raised its axe, it fell to its knees stunned. Lunging forward Alastair plunged his fist into its guts and wrenched its heart out. Bloody gore sprayed everywhere, it's sweet coppery scent filled the air making Alastair sigh in disgust. He was loathe to admit it but he found himself growing rather fond of beast blood, yet he hated it passionately. It and the cursed blood of the Healing Church was to blame for this madness.

Just down the walkway two more citizens lay on either side of a busted rickshaw. He knew it was an ambush, silently he moved himself closer until the one on his right started to stir. Dashing forward he tore into the first with his saw cleaver, it screamed and flailed about as it burned. By then the second was getting up, turning on his heels Alastair aimed for its throat, it dropped with a garbled curse. Stepping over the corpse he brought down his cleaver on a stack of crates. The ragged remains of an unlucky victim lay tucked behind them, clutched in its grasp was a handful of molotovs.

Scooping them up he tucked them away and turned towards the ladder. Grasping the lever tightly he pulled hard, the ladder slid down with a rusty screech and a thump. Hesitantly he grabbed hold of the first rung, up above he expected to find the body of Gilbert. He was his first friend in this nightmare city and had always been there to comfort him when he felt crestfallen. At least until he succumbed to the scourge and he had to do what was necessary to grant him mercy. Slowly he climbed up, each step as loud as the wind rushing by.

Alastair froze as a blood curdling scream rang out from the Cathedral Ward. It was a cry of pain, fear, and rage, it reminded him of the Vicar as she turned during her vigil at the cathedral. The Cleric Beast was the first real beast he'd fought, and it wasted no time in picking him up and jack hammering him into the bridge. It was a miracle he didn't have brain damage after that fight. Loosening his death grip on the ladder he hurried up and pulled himself over the ledge. He was greeted by an unlit lantern and a harsh hacking cough.

Gods!! Gilbert?! He's...he's alive and human again?!! Alastair felt tears in his eyes again. His legs gave out and he collapsed before his window, the smoky scent of incense wafted through the air and it brought back another memory. A sinister sanguine moon hung in the sky, the window and it's protective iron bars were shattered and warped as the beast inside clawed its way out. Blood was splattered all over him as he cradled the corpse of the dead beast that was once his friend in his arms. He had no words nor prayers that could ease the sorrow twisting his heart....

Another coughing fit snapped him back to reality, he was doubled over with his hands holding him up. A darkened puddle of tears lay on the ground in front of him. He couldn't speak to Gilbert right now, he wasn't ready yet, willing himself to stand he shuffled for the lantern. Holding out his hand he snapped his fingers and that eerie violet flame flickered to life. Kneeling he reached out, he closed his eyes as the lantern whisked him away to the Hunter's Dream.


	2. Deja vu

Alastair found himself lying on the ground surrounded by those sickly pale flowers that blanketed the Hunter's Dream. Dragging himself to his feet he looked around, the workshop appeared untouched by the flames that had engulfed it previously. It's doors were closed, Gehrman was probably waiting inside. A peaceful calm enveloped the Dream, the pale moon was just beyond the tree-line partly concealed in the dense mist that blocked all sight.

A rustle of clothing made Alastair turn his head. The Doll stood before him with her hands folded patiently waiting for someone to arrive. He could only guess that she was waiting on him. Out of habit he bowed and brought his hand up in a hunter's salutation, the doll smiled warmly and returned the bow. "Hello, good hunter. I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you. Honorable hunter, pursue the echoes of blood, and I will channel them into your strength. You will hunt beasts... and I will be here for you, to embolden your sickly spirit." She said in her always gentle, loving, voice. 

Wait? She didn't recognize him! It was as if the clock had been turned back all together. For the first time in ages he felt a faint glimmer of hope, he had all night to dream and another chance. He could set things right, quietly he turned and walked away. "Farewell good hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world." Alastair made a gesture of conviction as he strolled for the Central Yharnam tombstone. He didn't have much time, if he wanted to fix everything he needed to do it now. Kneeling he willed himself to awaken in Iosefka's Clinic.

The moment he materialized on the ground floor of the clinic he raced up the stairs to find the door closed and locked. Using his knuckles he rapped on the weathered wooden doorframe. From a shattered glass panel he glimpsed a red haired woman in white church garb approaching the other side. "Are you... out on the hunt? Then I'm very sorry, but... I cannot open this door. I am Iosefka. The patients here in my clinic must not be exposed to infection. I know that you hunt for us, for our town, but I'm sorry." She began.

"I'm not here to gain entry, I'm here with a warning. Be wary of an impostor from the Choir, they're going to take you hostage and experiment on you. I know it sounds strange, but I need you to trust me...please?" Alastair pleaded with the woman on the other side, to his surprise the woman replied. "I know who it is you speak of, my dear sister joined the Choir years ago. She was fond of experimenting on humans, this place is not only safe but perfect for her to continue her revolting research. I thank you kind hunter for your concern, I shall be vigilant." Reaching through the broken panel she held out a vial filled with a thick yellow liquid. "This is all that I can do. Now, go. And good hunting."

Alastair tucked the blood vial away in his pouch, his eyes widened as he noticed two other vials. One was from Adella the nun and the other was in an antique syringe from Adeline. He shuddered at the memory of the Hunter's Nightmare, how many times did he perish while searching for the secrets that were locked away there? Brushing off the bad thoughts he left the clinic and made for the other lantern. The fight to reach the ladder was no easier than it was the first time, but he did get there. Taking the stairs around the corner he approached another ambush. A citizen leapt out from behind a stack of coffins wildly swinging an oversized butcher knife. A few quick strikes and the beast was slain. Further down he hacked up two more, one held up a shield in a futile attempt to protect itself.

The last flight of stairs brought him to the ground, a group of beastly townsfolk shambled by armed with rusted, broken, make shift weapons. Funny there wasn't this many last time, was there? Alastair thought as the passed him by, oblivious to the hunter's presence. Once they were clear he ran for the gate, he yanked the lever back and the gate opened with a loud groan. Now he had a path to retreat in case of emergency, readying his cleaver he charged forward and tore into the gangly patrol. Two fell swiftly but another with a shield rammed into him and knocked him sideways. That left him open for the axe wielding citizen to strike. Alastair gritted his teeth as a throbbing pain shot up his leg, quickly he fired his pistol and his attacker dropped. Then he slashed the shield bearer as he let down his guard.

"Damn you!" He huffed as he reached for a blood vial and jabbed it into his thigh. He didn't want to use the Old Blood so soon, especially since he knew of its sinister side effects. He felt his pain subside as his wound healed, moving fast he caught up to the next group of enemies. Using the narrow alley and a broken carriage he funneled them into the furious swings of his weapon. Tiptoeing around the carriage he smashed the skull of the rifleman lying in wait. Up the stairs to his right he felled another assailant hiding behind a set of stone steps.

He paused to catch his breath and in the distance the clock tower sounded with an ominous tone. Like clock work the crowd gathered around the large bonfire down below dispersed. He was spotted by the two that came up the stairs, he struck down the one with the pitch fork but the other flailed its saber about wildly and landed a blow to his right shoulder. Alastair transformed his weapon as he swung and sent the other's head flying.

There was another citizen facing a sealed gate, creeping up behind him he finished him with a visceral attack. By then the crowd was likely down by the large gate he'd opened and would return soon. Jumping off the ledge he dashed past a rifleman and cut down a plague dog that was hiding nearby. Nearly tripping he scrambled up the stairs and ran, bullets whizzed past his head. He stopped when he spied the aged green fountain, to his left was a cluster of diseased crows, to his right was a brick troll groaning and furiously pounding on the large doors separating it from the streets beyond.

Just ahead was...the priest's house. Alastair tilted his head as a snippet of a familiar melody was carried to him by the wind. He felt his heart sink, the little girl would be all alone, and her mother gone to find the priest. A soothing chime sounded from nearby, it was a call to summon an old hunter. Alastair's eyes lit up as he rummaged in his pouch, his mask crinkled in a grin as his hands grasped the Old Hunter Bell. This was his only chance, but first he had the crows and the troll to contend with.

Dashing for the crows he killed the first two, the third flew up and tried to peck at him. He dodged away and brought his weapon down, the crow fell to the ground in a mess of bloody feathers. Reaching for his molotovs he took three and got within range of the troll. Tossing all three in quick succession he watched as the troll burst into flames and groaned in pain before dropping to the ground with a thud. With the area secure he grabbed the bell and went to the designated summon spot. It was time to see who was on the other end.


	3. Father Gascoigne

With a trembling hand Alastair rang the Old Hunter Bell, it's crystal clear chime echoed loudly off the nearby walls. He felt the familiar rush of insight leaving him and shivered. He never could get used to it, it felt as if there was rushing water inside his head. Many times he swore he even heard the subtle sound of something trickling or dripping.

As the messengers left to beckon a hunter his stomach tied into knots, there were only a few sane hunters left in Yharnam. And being so close to the priest's home he could only guess it would be him that appeared. But then again he wasn't certain since he never really summoned anyone on the previous night. With all the blood drunk mad men running about he didn't quite feel comfortable calling on anyone fearing they'd come after him as soon as the beasts were dispatched.

A moment later a flash of blue light caught his attention and a hunter appeared. He was easily seven feet tall and wore a long oily black duster. A dingy holy shawl fluttered on his back and on his shoulder rested a hunter axe. His stringy silver hair and unkempt beard was flecked with blood. A wide brimmed hat concealed the worn gauze bandages that covered his eyes. "Well, well, a hunter is it?" He gave a smirk as he brought his axe to his side.

Alastair was sweating bullets, quietly he wondered if he'd made the right choice. The priest already seemed a bit blood drunk and the pungent stench of a beast clung to his garb. "Ya alright lad? Ya just went as pale as a Pthumerian!" He tilted his head back to look up at the giant hunter, his smile had turned to a look of genuine concern. "F-Father Gascoigne?" He whimpered. "Aye. Who might you be?" The priest asked calmly. "I'm- I'm ....Alastair. H-hunter of th-the Dream." He stammered.

He nearly recoiled at the massive hand that came to rest on his shoulder. "Easy now, I may look like a beast me'self but I don't mean any harm." Gascoigne patted him on the back with a chuckle, looking towards the great bridge he took a deep breath, "Oooh...beasts, beasts everywhere!" He licked his lips as a sinister grin crossed his face. "I'm beginning to like the smell of this hunt already." He readied his blunderbuss and turned to walk away.

"Wait!! You can't hunt tonight!!" Alastair yelled abruptly. Gascoigne gave him a quizzical look, "Are ya mad? Tonight's the full moon hunt, I have ta' go out, it's my duty." Alastair frantically wracked his brain for a response, then he remembered something from the previous night. "Your wife went out to look for you and left your daughter home alone!!" Technically it was the truth, the priest sighed and muttered under his breath, "Gods Vi', again?" Then he looked over to Alastair, "I'll go look for her, but I have ta' go back to my world."

Alastair wore a horrified expression under his mask. He couldn't let him get to her, especially after last time. "Let me go after her, I know where she is!" He was starting to sound frantic. "I thank ya kindly, but I can find her myself." Gascoigne said as he produced small pistol with a silencing blank. "She doesn't have the music box with her!!" Alastair was nearly in full blown panic. Gascoigne stood rooted to the spot, pistol aimed skyward. His mouth was agape as an expression of terror flashed across his face. The other hunter swore under his breath as the priest fired the pistol and vanished.

Running towards the far corner of the courtyard Alastair smashed the a pile of crates and leapt down. Turning the corner he sprinted through the tunnel, the rambling of a brick troll could be heard above. Coming to a stop at the abandoned house he opened the door and walked in. He wasted no time in cutting down the enemies that lurked inside, opening the second door he exited and shot a torch carrying citizen. Up the stairs he shoved on the gate and knelt at the lantern.

Upon returning to the dream Alastair noticed the workshop door was ajar. He intended to repair his weapons and restock his bullets and blood vials before going to the Tomb of Oeden. If everything was locked as it was before that meant he'd have to go the long way through the sewers. Just as he stepped through the door way Gehrman looked up with a smile. "Ah-hah, you must be the new hunter. Welcome to the Hunter's Dream. This will be your home, for now. I am... Gehrman, friend to you hunters. You're sure to be in a fine haze about now, but don't think too hard about all of this. Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's for your own good. You know, it's just what hunters do! You'll get used to it..."

Alastair bowed in greeting and wordlessly continued to the repair table. After what he'd learned of the Old Hunter previously he really wanted to avoid him. A few blood echoes later he finished his repairs and went over to the storage trunk. His jaw hit the floor as the lid swung open to reveal all the accumulated items he'd left behind. Quickly he loaded up on everything he could carry, and at the bottom of the box he glimpsed an ancient greatsword.

It was the Holy Moonlight Sword he picked up from the Hunter's Nighmare. Strapping that to his back he'd use it as a secondary weapon, he honestly couldn't believe everything was still there. Standing he paid a visit to the doll and channeled his blood echoes before going back to Central Yharnam. Once again he awakened at the lantern by Gilbert's window, his persistent cough sounded slightly worse than it did before. Alastair rubbed his throat in sympathy, he had to have something that might help.

He raised his hand but stopped just shy of tapping on the glass, did he really want to rekindle his friendship with him after last time? Could he bring himself to put him down again when the blood moon came? He didn't get the chance to ponder, it seemed Gilbert sensed his presence and came to the window. "Oh you must be a Hunter, and not one from around here either. I'm Gilbert, a fellow outsider. You must have had a fine time of it. Yarnham has a special way of treating guests. I don't think I can stand if I wanted to, but I'm willing to help, if there's anything that can be done." He was interrupted by a coughing fit. "This town is cursed. Whatever your reasons might be you should plan a swift exit. Whatever can be gained from this place, it will do more harm than good."

"As if I could leave... It's..it's good to meet you Gilbert." Alastair was quick to bid him farewell as his eyes watered up. Moving at a steady pace he made his way across town to the sewers. Along the way he got the impression he was being followed, many times he'd turn and look over his shoulder but no one was there. Not taking any chances he cleared the sewers of the beasts and rats that were hiding away. When he got to the other beast and the citizens with rifles he waited till they turned away to slide down the ladder.

He sprinted away as gunshots rang out from above, "Damn! I was sure they didn't see me!" Alastair hissed. Standing on the wooden platform at the end he knelt down, amidst the foul smelling sludge were the rotted corpses of unlucky Yharnamites. Their arms were unusually long and ended in sharp pointed talons. Originally he planned to creep past them seeing as they remained dormant when left alone. But that plan was squashed as a molotov flew past him and landed on a creature down below. It's gave out an agonizing scream and flailed about before collapsing.

The others around it reanimated with wheezing groans. The fixed their attention on the hunter up above and began to drag themselves through the vile muck to reach him. Alastair leapt up and spun around to find Father Gascoigne standing there, he was soaked to the ankles in sewer water and grinning like a fiend. "Let there be no doubt, if it moves you can be sure its a beast. And even if it doesn't...well, don't take any chances." He grinned.

After taking a moment to check his pulse, Alastair leapt down and slashed at the group of ghouls. Gascoigne joined in with his axe and they were swiftly dispatched. "Why did you follow me?" Alastair panted as he lowered his weapon. "Because you know where my wife is, and for a stranger you know a lot about me." The priest said as he aimed his blunderbuss at some crows perched on a wooden beam. The resounding gunshot made Alastair's ears ring, he hoped the Old Blood could aid hearing loss.

"Right...it's a very long story. And I promise to explain everything, but for right now let's get her home safely. Your little girl needs her mother..." His voice trailed of sadly, the keening wails of the little girl as he handed over her mother's brooch had bothered him terribly all the previous night. "Aye, stories can wait fer later. I can guess she's at the Tomb of Oeden." Gascoigne's solemn tone unnerved him slightly.

"Up ahead we have two paths, go up and we have a mob, a trap, and a troll plus a few beasts. Down below is a feral hog and some ghouls." Alastair sighed as he loaded his pistol. "We go up. I'll not let Viola wade through this garbage." Gascoigne huffed. Alastair nodded in agreement, together they cut through the few ghouls that littered their path. The priest took out the crows as they swooped down and Alastair scrambled up the ladder. He asked Gascoigne to stand aside by the elevator, running onto the bridge he waited until the mob charged. Turning on his heel he ran back and let the flaming boulder take them out. Gascoigne finished off a survivor and rushed for the brick troll, transforming his axe he wound up a swing and sent it flying into the wall behind it. Then he smashed a shield bearer and ran for the tomb.

Alastair sprinted as fast as he could but he didn't quite have the stamina to keep up. He ended up winded by the time he reached the beasts that cornered a yharnamite. Breathing heavily he leaned on the wall going into the tomb. Gascoigne was hacking away at a mob of beasts, a woman in a purple dress was darting up the stairs with a axe wielding citizen in pursuit. Alastair gave chase and threw a knife to get its attention, the citizen cursed him and tried to hit him with his torch. Dashing forward he struck him with his cleaver and quickly ended it.

The woman had slipped through the broken railing and onto the roof of the grave keeper's house. Down below he saw the priest mangling a corpse that lay in a pool of blood. In a moment he was lost in the memory of his first encounter. He slowly approached the priest while he was muttering in a feverish state of delirium. "Beasts all over the shop...you'll be one of them...sooner or later." With a maniacal laugh he descending on the novice hunter like a wild beast. Every drop of blood had him practically drooling, and his beastly screams made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight.

He was snapped out of his flashback by a gentle hand shaking him. It took him a moment to realize he'd dropped his weapons and curled up on the ground. Cold sweat dampened his face and his heart threatened to leap out of his chest. "Alastair? Ya alright lad? Did ya get hurt." Gascoigne's presence made him curl up even smaller. Even though he was an ally he was still terrified of him. The priest stood and walked to the railing to help his wife up then returned to his side. Rubbing gentle circles on the other hunter's back he hummed the music box melody.

"Is he alright Gascoigne? The poor dear looks petrified." An angelic voice came from over his shoulder. "I'm not sure. Ain't seen somebody so scared since Henryk met yer' friends in that knitting club." Gascoigne smiled as Viola slapped him playfully on the back. Gradually Alastair began to relax at Gascoigne's gentle coaxing. Reaching into a pouch on his belt the priest handed him the Tomb of Oeden key and a bottle of sedatives. "Take these ta steady yer nerves. But not too much as they are addicting. I gotta get Vi' home, I'll be seeing you later."

Alastair stood and was taken by surprise when the priest pulled him in for a bear hug. "Thanks for yer' help lad." He whispered. Alastair hugged him back with a smile. Picking up his weapons he watched them leave arm in arm, and nearby by the towering statue a lantern appeared.


	4. Eileen the Crow

Alastair sat against a stack of weathered crates and dirty burlap bags clutching the jar of sedatives he was given earlier. His gaze was fixed on it as he swirled the syrupy scarlet liquid in its container. He didn't really want to take it but the alternative was equally unappealing. He couldn't keep having these break downs, if he had a moment while killing a beast he would end up as a meal. His nerves were frayed and he couldn't risk falling apart tonight.

Tugging out the cork he hesitantly brought the bottle to his lips. He only allowed himself a tiny sip before replacing the lid and putting the bottle away. The moment it went down his throat he felt all the tension in his body dissipate, with a long sigh he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. It was comforting like a warm drink on a frosty morning. He let his head lull back to rest against a crate as his eyes closed of their own accord. He hadn't realized just how tired he was. With the whole night to dream he guessed it wouldn't hurt to slip off into a dream of his own just for a bit.

A while later he was stirred awake by the rustle of clothing and the scent of graveyard dirt and incense. "What are you still doing here? Enough trembling in your boots. A hunter must hunt!" Eileen crossed her arms as she gazed down at the hunter sprawled out against a crate. Huh? Oh!! That's right, I went to see Eileen after leaving the tomb. Alastair thought with a yawn. "Sorry, I took some sedatives and then a nap." His mask crinkled from the silly grin he wore underneath. He could almost see the hunter of hunters rolling her eyes from under her avian mask. "You really are a new hunter aren't you? Don't you know that you're supposed to dilute that swill with water? All the other hunters never listened to the ministers and their warnings. Now they're all raving addicts, I almost prefer to hunt beasts than face them!" She huffed.

Alastair groggily drug himself to his feet and shrugged. "I'll be more careful in the future...um, does it have to be water though? I'm pretty sure the drinking water around here will kill you faster than the scourge." Eileen tilted her head in thought, "Well...I usually take four drops with some wine after a date with Hen- Wait! That's none of your business!! Just dilute it with anything that's not blood. Now, this night won't end until you fulfill your deal with the Dream." She grew flustered and began to shew him away, her feathered cape swaying with her movements.

Alastair waited until his back was turned and was well out of range of the Crow before breaking into a hushed giggle. Eileen was always a woman of mystery to him, she was a faceless huntress that brought merciful death to the hunters who became blood drunk or worse. Never would he have guessed she had a love interest. Wait, it sounded as if she'd almost said... No it couldn't have been that Old Hunter that violently murdered him several times, could it? What was his name again?

Shaking his head he dismissed the thought, making his way to the Great Bridge he decided it was time to get to work. The night would last forever until he slaughtered the source of the nightmare. Ducking and dodging past the troll and crows gathered near the far side of the gate he entered under a grand archway. This was at one time the path to Cathedral Ward, now it was the feeding ground of the Cleric Beast.

Checking over his equipment one last time he confidently strolled forward to the end of the bridge. An enraged scream made him cover his ears as the massive beast leapt down onto the bridge. The stench of dirty, wet, fur and spoiled meat nearly made him throw up. The resounding thuds of the beast's heavy feet vibrated through the cobblestone and the hunter's body. Alastair swallowed hard, the cleric beast was much larger than he remembered. And far angrier, it wasted no time in bringing down its giant, brawny, right arm in an attempt to crush him.

Alastair dashed forward and slashed at its legs. The course, wiry fur was singed off and the serrated edges of his saw spear tore chunks of flesh away. But to the hunter's chagrin it didn't nearly do the damage he'd hoped. The beast leapt away and swung only to hit open air. The hunter kept pace and stayed behind the beast, it threw its head back and let out an enraged howl. Alastair kept hacking away until he missed an opening and got sent flying.

He landed against the archway and crumpled to the ground. Searing pain shot up his left leg as he tried to stand, it was likely broken. Gritting his teeth he jabbed a blood vial into his thigh and stood. The cleric beast began to furiously jump around pounding its fists with such fury it was a miracle the bridge didn't break. Keeping his distance Alastair began hurling molotovs at the beast's face. By the sixth one he could tell it was weakening. Running for the legs he slashed away at it until it screamed again. Rolling away he was nearly crushed by the beast's body as it collapsed. The impact sent a misty cloud of blood up to rain down on the hunter nearby. A deafening silence descended as the beast went still, once again his prey was slaughtered.

Alastair limped over to the lantern as it materialized from the Dream. Snapping his fingers he activated it and returned to his temporary home. Once safely in the refuge of the Dream he paid the doll a visit and repaired his weapons, Alastair noticed it took far more blood echoes than it usually did to restore his equipment. He really was starting the night all over again. Or perhaps he was slowly losing his mind? He couldn't be certain, disregarding his intrusive thoughts he restocked his items and returned to the Tomb of Oeden. As he knelt at the tombstone he felt the piercing gaze of the Old Hunter Gehrman, he sat in the doorway of the workshop but stayed silent. The sad smile he wore made Alastair feel a twinge of regret, he'd barely spoken to the old man at all tonight.

How could he though after he'd learned of the Hunter's Nightmare and his role in the defilement of Kos? It was him and the other Old Hunters that incited the curse that plagues all who take up the role of the hunter. But on the other hand he willingly chose to sacrifice himself and be held prisoner in the Hunter's Dream. It was a last futile attempt to save Yharnam from the scourge, and as Alastair awakened in the Tomb of Oeden he realized he wasn't sure how to feel about Gehrman. Quietly he decided to speak with him later, if he didn't vanish like he was oft to do.


	5. Oeden Chapel

An unnerving calm had settled over the Tomb of Oeden. The darkening sky left the graveyard shrouded in gloom with the only light coming from the lantern and a few street lamps. Corpses of beastly citizens and the long dead were strewn about among the haphazardly placed tombstones. Alastair walked along the crumbling flagstones and up the stairs to the massive iron gate. Using the key given to him by Gascoigne he opened the gate and proceeded through the aqueduct.

Climbing a rusted ladder he gained access to the basement of Oeden Chapel. Across the room a narrow winding staircase led to an ornate wooden door, the scent of holy incense was strong there. Shoving on the door it slowly gave way, just as he stepped inside the cathedral bells tolled loudly. The air was hazy with incense smoke, and all around were contorted statues with their hands raised in prayer. Alastair nearly jumped at the bundle of dirty red rags on the floor that started to move.

It was the blind chapel dweller, by his silence he hadn't noticed him yet. He idly wondered just how often he ended up here during hunts, or if he just stayed there since he appeared to have no legs. Deciding to leave him be for now Alastair lit the next lantern and walked out the exit on his left. A couple of the cathedral guards circled the courtyard with lanterns and staves in hand. Waiting for them to go past Alastair attacked them from behind with a visceral attack then went up the stairs. The sound of jangling metal and heavy wheezing told of the church giant that was approaching.

Bigger enemies were far sturdier, so Alastair switched to his great-sword. Once again he attacked from behind, but he only swung once then dodged so as not to tire himself. He repeated this until the giant fell and dissipated into mist. Shouldering his weapon he strolled up the stairway that led to the cathedral's outer courtyard. Beyond the heavily decorated wrought iron bars he could see the patrolling cathedral guards and the circling church giants. To his right just on the other side was the lever that opened the gate. A cluster of messengers were gathered around it gazing up at him expectantly. "Hello there, how are you this evening?" He said as he crouched down to their eye level.

The messengers groaned in a decidedly happy tone. "Just curious, but you wouldn't mind opening the gate for me please? I would like to get to the Grand Cathedral." He asked with a smile. Not surprisingly they shook their heads no, one gestured to a bundled scrap of fabric that another was waving over its head. "Ah, i see. So I still need the Chief Hunter Emblem. I'm not sure I saw it in my things, so I'll go back to the Dream. Didn't hurt to ask. Thank you for being so diligent in your duties." If messengers could blush then they did at his unexpected praise.

With a farewell wave Alastair strolled back to Oeden Chapel. Just before he descended the stairs to the courtyard he froze. All the hair on his body stood straight as his thundering heart threatened to quit all together. There it was, sitting on the roof of the chapel. That eldritch creature with its long sinewy arms, twisted and malformed. It's swollen head was lined with eyes and long tentacles hung from its face. It's body was massive yet oddly shriveled giving it the appearance of old leather. It was Amygdala, the same one that hurled him into the Hunter's Nightmare.

How had he not seen that creature there earlier? Perhaps it was because his back was turned as he hunted his prey. Just gazing upon this warped monstrosity made him feel as if he was edging closer to frenzy. Running he jumped down the stairs and dashed for the chapel, once inside he sat down and reached for his sedatives. He only allowed himself one drop this time, just enough to ward off the impending fit of madness induced by frenzy. As the strain on his mind eased he made a swift return to the Dream.

Oddly enough the emblem wasn't in his belongings nor in the storage chest. So he paid a visit to the messengers and found it there, he had plenty of blood echoes so he bought it and returned to the chapel. The trip was just the same as before and on his second visit the gate opened as he held out the emblem. With a smile he tipped his hat to the messengers and carried on, going left he killed two more cathedral guards then a crow. Treading carefully he proceeded down into an alleyway. Here the smoke from underground billowed up through the manholes obscuring everything from view. Just to his right he spotted a beastly citizen with a poisoned weapon. He cut him down then turned sharply as he picked up the sound of scuffling boots. He stared hard at a glimpse of movement before he realized it was a beast.

A gunshot echoed from a ways off and the next thing he knew was that a beast was in front of him furiously swinging an impromptu weapon. Sharp metal spikes met the side of his head and sent him back in a spray of blood. The beast charged forward and slammed its weapon down onto Alastair's head killing him...

When Alastair woke again he found himself in Oeden Chapel, he was unharmed and very much alive. All as if his death had been merely a bad dream, only it wasn't. The fact that he'd been killed so easily irritated him, when he got back to that alley he would get his revenge. Going a different direction he stepped out to be greeted by Eileen standing by the railing with her arms crossed. Curious he approached her and gave her a hunter's salutation. The crow chuckled at this gesture and returned his greeting. "Perfect timing. I wanted to tell you that Henryk, an Old Hunter, is in the tomb below Oeden Chapel. He's an old friend of mine and he wishes to speak with you."

Alastair was sweating bullets again, the nimble old hunter was merciless during his last encounter. "Don't worry, he's a gentle soul, unless your a beast." Eileen laughed. "Now, go see him before he tracks you down." Alastair walked away until he was out of sight, then he ran for the door. The sound of his boots caught the chapel dweller's attention, he looked towards the hunter with a nervous smile.

"Ahh, a hunter are ya? Very sorry, the incense must've masked your scent. Good, good. I've been waiting for one of your ilk. These hunts have everyone all locked up inside. Waiting for it to end... It always does, always has, y'know. Since forever. But it won't end very nicely, not this time. Even some folks hiding inside are goin' bad. The screams of wimminfolk, the stench of blood, the snarls of beasts... none of em's too uncommon now. Yharnam's done fer, I tell ya. But if you spot anyone with their wits about 'em... Tell 'em about this here Oedon Chapel. They'll be safe here. The incense wards off the beasts. Spread the word... tell 'em to come on over. If you wouldn't mind... Hee hee..."

"I'll be sure to do that. It was nice to meet you." Alastair said in a friendly tone. Last time he'd been untrusting of the chapel dweller, mostly because he bore a striking resemblance to the Blood Starved Beast. He had sent the survivors to Iosefka's clinic and received treatment which turned out to be gruesome human experimentation. He shivered at the thought and made a mental note to check on Iosefka later. For now it was time to pay Henryk a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be a while before I post more for this story since I'm working on the story line. If there is anything the readers would like to see feel free to comment.


	6. Henryk

Alastair crouched down by the broken railing near the grave keeper's hut. Just past the gnarled tree below was the Old Hunter Henryk. He stood statue still with only his long shawl and the worn feathers of his cap swaying gently in the breeze. He didn't have his weapons ready like last time but he was just as vigilant. Weighing his choices Alastair put away his weapons and walked down the stairs. This was a risky move considering how hostile he had been their prior encounter, but Eileen didn't have him marked for death this time so he could assume he was sane. But was anything really sane in Yharnam?

He felt a sliver of ice go down his spine as Henryk took notice of him. His bright blue eyes were as cold as Cainhurst and were analyzing him in a predatory manner. One wrong step and Henryk would slay him on the spot. But to his relief he didn't attack, instead he walked up and gave a hunter's salutation. Alastair gave the League's salute in return, when Valtr gave him his cane he read over the directory to see how many people he knew and was surprised to see Henryk's name on the list.

His eyes widened as he let out a faint laugh. "Well Valtr is recruiting children now? He must have that bucket on his head too tight." This made Alastair chuckle, he wasn't the only one that found Valtr's head gear strange. "What's your name boy?" The other hunter held out his hand, "I'm Alastair, hunter of the Dream." The older hunter accepted his handshake. "I'm Henryk, former hunter of Byrgenwerth." Alastair felt himself starting to relax, but his relief was short lived. In a flash he was shoved against a tall tombstone and was staring down the barrel of a hunter pistol.

"Now. I have a question for you, you knew about Gascoigne's music box. That was a family secret, if word got out of his affliction then he and his family would be hunted by the Church. You are a stranger to all of us, so how did you come by this knowledge? And be truthful, the night is long and you will make an easy kill." The ice in his voice cut as sharply as his saw cleaver. Swallowing hard he took a moment to gather his thoughts, "Where do I begin? To start, I've lived this night before..." He felt the gun barrel press against his forehead. "It's true! I came here seeking treatment for an incurable heart ailment. But then I signed a contract, got a transfusion, and was killed by a beast!"

The gun was moved from his face, "I can tell this will be a long story, and my feet are aching. Sit, and keep talking." Henryk said calmly gesturing to the ground with his pistol. Together they sat and Alastair told him of his exploration of Yharnam. "Then I came to this house after leaving the sewer, I heard a pretty melody and stopped to listen. I knocked on the glass and a little girl appeared, she asked me to find her mother. She told me she wore a big red brooch and gave me a music box saying it played Gascoigne's favorite song."

"I've told Violet so many times not to talk to strangers." Henryk sighed. "Then what happened?" He asked. "I came to the Tomb of Oeden, Gascoigne was too far gone when I arrived... He came at me and we fought...Then he turned into a beast..." Alastair took a shuddering breath before adding. "The music box was the only thing that saved me. I ended up killing him, I didn't want to but I had no choice..." As he looked over he noticed Henryk had gone still, his gaze hidden by his cap. "The woman, Viola, she was already cold when I found her. I don't know how she died...I don't want to know..."

He had to stop for a moment to wipe away a tear, "When I told Violet she was devastated, she cried for so long. I didn't tell her everything, it was already hard enough to lose her parents, I felt that the truth would be too much for her. She didn't want to stay home alone, so I went to look for somewhere safe, told her to stay put. She set out after I left and made for the sewers, all that I found of her was a bloodied ribbon after I slaughtered the feral hog..." He stopped as Henryk finally met his stare, his eyes held a flicker of madness in them. He could only imagine the grief he was feeling in that moment.

"There's more." He said quietly. Alastair noticed that wasn't a question. "Later I met Eileen in the Cathedral Ward and told me to avoid this place because you'd gone mad. I went down and tried to reason with you, that was a horrible idea. Several times I ran down to aid Eileen because she came after you only to be butchered. Eventually you died and left a rune behind." Henryk had a white knuckle grip on his pistol, "Did I hurt her?" His voice was a pained whisper. "Yes, but not seriously."

Alastair bit the inside of his cheek as the old hunter's eyes begun to glisten with tears. It was clear Henryk cared a lot for Eileen, the revelation that they were together hit him like a ton of bricks. Now he understood why she lingered in the tomb for so long after the fight. She was mourning the loss of her family. A somber air fell over the place and the two hunters sat in silence for some time. Eventually Henryk looked off somewhere by the gate and sighed, "Alright, you need to get back to the hunt. I'm going to check on Gas' then I'm heading to the frontier to make my rounds. I need some time to take in what I've learned. If we meet up again you're welcome to join me in killing a few beasts."

His voice was calm but thinly veiled his pain, he looked as if he'd have a breakdown any second. Unsure of what to say Alastair stood and walked away slowly. Stopping at the stairs he readied his weapons and glanced back. Eileen had appeared, she was on the ground at Henryk's side. Her feathered cloak covered him like a blanket as she wrapped her arms around him and he buried his head into her shoulder. He could tell by how his shoulders were heaving that he was crying hard. With blurry vision Alastair set off for Iosefka's clinic, he would check on her and Gilbert while going to gather survivors.

\----------

"There, there dear. Let it all out... I haven't seen you this distraught since Viola came down with cholera." Eileen spoke softly as she held Henryk in an embrace. "That boy...he saved us all tonight..." The old hunter sniffled. "He told me a strange tale of how he lived this night before. Our whole family died...you had to put me down..." His voice came out in a cracked whisper. The Crow felt him trembling like a leaf, his family was the only thing keeping him from falling into madness. But she was skeptical, "How do you know he was telling the truth?" She asked. He pulled away and wiped his eyes with a the back of his gloved hand. "Ages ago I was gifted a rune from Caryll, it was meant to aid me during hunts. I never told a soul about it, but he knew."

Eileen cocked an eyebrow, "Really? No wonder you're so strong." She tilted her head in thought as she moved to stand. "But why would he go out of his way to help us, he could've just avoided us all together." Henryk scratched his head, "I'm not sure, but I don't think I want to know what could've been if he hadn't met us." Henryk tried to stand but struggled because his knees had gone stiff. "Would you be so kind as to help an old man off the ground?" He asked with a hidden smile. Eileen held out her hand to help him up. "Will you continue to hunt tonight?" She asked.

"Yes, the beasts aren't going to just keel over on their own." He said sarcastically. "Mind your sass, I'm not Gascoigne, you two can banter all you want but you speak respectfully with me." Eileen gently scolded. "Yes ma'am." Henryk replied nervously. With a parting hug Henryk set off for the priest's house and Eileen lingered by the lantern. She had to plan out her next move, there was a special target she would be hunting tonight.


	7. Gilbert

"Alright, the old woman is going to Oeden Chapel, now I need to see Iosefka." Alastair mumbled to himself as he strolled along. The street behind him was littered with the corpses of the beastly citizens that tried to face him. Besides the crackle of a blazing bonfire and a few deranged shrieks the streets were eerily silent. The sun was low on the horizon and already the city was shrouded in shadows. Soon he would be venturing down into Old Yharnam to face the wrath of Djura.

The heavy footsteps of the executioner lurking in the nearby alley caught his attention. He really didn't feel like killing it yet so he let it be as he passed through the gate and made for the clinic. It was so dark inside that he tripped over the half eaten carcasses of the werewolf's last meal. He hit the ground with a thump and quickly rolled to his feet. The scent of blood in the room was much stronger and oddly sweeter than he remembered. Not taking any chances he readied his weapons and crept across the room and upstairs. The door where he last met Iosefka was still firmly locked tight.

Tapping on a glass panel he waited, eventually he heard the faint rustle of clothing and soft footsteps approaching. "Oh! It's you, thank goodness you're safe. You were right, my sister did try to break in while you were away. But she was unsuccessful, it is against my oath to kill so I have her restrained and sedated for now." Iosefka spoke softly from behind the door. "That's good, I'm glad you are unharmed. While I'm here, may I get some medicine for a friend? He's home bound with a terrible cough, I'm afraid he has the scourge. I know its incurable, but I can't let him suffer in silence either." Alastair asked as he leaned against the wall. He could barely glimpse the red haired woman through a broken panel. She still appeared just as she was during their last meeting.

"Yes, certainly. It may take a moment though since I have to mix the medicine." She replied warmly. "That's fine, I can wait." Alastair said as he looked over his shoulder, something made him feel uneasy just then. In the gloom he stood quietly and waited, with Iosefka gone it was almost too quiet. After several minutes he found himself getting bored so he peeped through the key hole to look around. Nothing had changed except for a scrap of paper on the table where he'd awakened earlier. Then a sudden wet gargling sound made him jump back and nearly tumble down the stairs. Crouching he pressed his ear against the door, and then he heard it. The particular indescribable sound that could only be made by a celestial emissary.

The color drained from Alastair's face as he listened. Despite his warning Iosefka had still fallen victim to the mad doctor of the Choir. And it was likely the real doctor was just around the corner. The noise stopped as Iosefka returned, "Here you are. I put it in a liquid form so he will find it easy to swallow. He is to take one teaspoon every four hours. I also added a little melatonin so he can have a restful sleep." She explained as she passed her hand through the broken glass.

"Thank you. I appreciate you helping him, he'll be much happier." His voice was smiling but his face was devoid of expression. He had every intention of returning to the clinic later and putting an end to the fraudulent doctor. "You are welcome. I hope his last days are peaceful." With that Alastair stalked away he found it odd that she didn't ask him to find survivors, maybe it was because of his warning? Leaving the clinic he took the long way up and around to Gilbert's window. His coughing was becoming more persistent and harsher. Alastair couldn't help but feel despair over his condition. There was nothing that could be done except to ease his pain.

Tapping on the glass he waited for reply. "Hello again. It's been a while hasn't it?" Gilbert called from inside. A sudden coughing fit kept him from speaking for a moment. "Are you alright in there? I brought you medicine from the clinic for your cough." Alastair rummaged through his utility belt and produced a brown glass bottle with a cork on it. "Ah, don't you worry about me. I'm afraid I'm of little help now." Gilbert started but was interrupted. "As long as you keep being such a kind soul then you will always be of great help to me. Now please, take this before you cough up a lung." Alastair gave a friendly smile.

To his surprise a slender pale hand reached out to grasp his, "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you went through the trouble to get me this. But you know it won't do much good now, tonight is likely to be my last. But at least I can die human." Alastair bit his lip so hard he could taste blood in his mouth. It was taking all he had not to cry right then, if only he knew. The scourge was cruel and merciless, and he didn't have the heart to tell him that he wouldn't get the peaceful end he wanted.

He simply nodded as Gilbert let go and gently grasped the bottle. The hand vanished and returned a moment holding a flame sprayer. "Take this. I made no use of it, but perhaps you can." Alastair grabbed the handle and hung it on his belt. "Thank you. I'm afraid I have to get back out there, and you need your rest." Gilbert started coughing again, but he waved farewell with his free hand before closing the window. Going back to the dream Alastair restocked his supplies and repaired his weapons. Taking ten extra antidotes he tucked them into his pocket and prayed the wouldn't be crushed.

Awakening in Oeden Chapel Alastair left through the other exit and down into a circular courtyard with a well in it. Running he dashed past the cathedral guards and down the stairs to the abandoned church that sealed off Old Yharnam. Using his throwing knives he distracted his enemies and lured them to him one at a time. Inside the church he killed another citizen waiting in ambush. Moving quietly he crept around the corner, up the stairs that led to the back of the church was a rifleman with two dogs. Uncapping a blue elixir he sipped a little and walked slowly up. The dogs charged past oblivious to his presence, and the rifleman failed to notice him until it was too late.

Opening the door he made for the lever on the upper balcony and tugged on it. The hefty stone sarcophagus that barred the way slid open to reveal a staircase. With the passage open he walked over to the other exit, another set of stairs led to the shrine of the Executioners. Decades ago they carried out the will of the Vicar and the Church, they grew jealous of the Cainhurst Vilebloods and their power. Their methods of obtaining blood for their Queen was seen as evil. In truth she simply wanted a child of blood so she could pass on her crown.  
But the Church used the populace of Yharnam as guinea pigs for their research and the Choir even experimented on orphans. If anyone was considered evil it was the Healing Church and the school of Mensis. 

Alastair smiled at the executioner kneeling at the altar. If he'd lived in another age he could've been a knight. He could almost picture him wearing chain mail with a tabard emblazoned with a sun or other holy symbol. Perhaps he'd wear a red feather in his helm, he was a bit eccentric.

"Time to get reacquainted with an old friend." Alastair said to himself as he descended the stairs.


	8. Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to update. I kinda forgot about this story and got busy with a few things. I'm trying to pick it back up again. Thank you all so much who've read and commented. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)

Just before the shrine an executioner knelt reverently in prayer. Of all the hunters in Yharnam he was by far the cleanest and most well kept. He had wavy dirty-blonde hair with neatly trimmed sideburns and friendly green eyes. His executioner armor was spotless and neat almost as if he'd had it made just yesterday. Alastair approached quietly but just enough for his footsteps to be heard. Once he glanced over his shoulder to see who it was he stood. "You're a beast hunter aren't you? I knew it! That's precisely how I started out. Oh, beg pardon, you may call me Alfred. Protege of Master Logarius, hunter of Vilebloods."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Alastair." He left off the part where he was tied to the Dream. "So what say you? Our prey might differ, but we are hunters, the both of us. Why not cooperate, and discuss the things we've learned?" The friendliness radiating off of him was sickeningly sweet. But Alastair knew of the darkness lurking deep in the heart of the good mannered hunter. Still, he was willing to work with him...for now. "Sure, why not." He replied.

Alfred's eyes lit up, "Oh-hoh! Very good, very good indeed! Take this, to celebrate our acquaintance." He was beaming with delight as he held out the flame paper in his hand. With a grateful nod Alastair excepted it and put it away. Together they talked briefly over the history of the Healing Church, all things Alastair heard before. But this time he couldn't help but notice how Alfred spoke. He sounded as if what he knew was read and committed to heart from a dusty old textbook and not from experience.

He doubted that he was a true executioner, he was likely a former hunter of the dream like him that got tangled up in a delusion of grandeur. Though he had to respect his devotion and commitment to his cause. When they had nothing more to discuss they parted ways. "Beast hunting is a sacred practice. May the good blood guide your way." Alfred said as he returned to his prayer. Alastair returned to the stairs that led to Old Yharnam, descending he passed the corpse of a church hunter. He had something clutched in his hands but he decided to leave it be. Further down he could hear the panting of another werewolf, pausing and leaning against the wall he peered around the corner. The beast sat waiting, it's blind eyes fixed on nothing, but it's other senses worked quite well. Long ropes of drool dripped from its bloodied fangs as it sniffed the air. It growled and begun to creep towards the door way. Dashing out Alastair stood before it and waited for it to strike. As it reared up onto its hind legs to lunge forward he fired his pistol and finished it with a visceral attack. Blood sprayed everywhere causing Alastair to jump back. He shook his head as the intoxicating scent filled the room. Quickly he ran and slid down the ladder, and didn't stop until the lantern came into view. Lighting the lantern he returned to the Dream, he was keen on keeping his weapons maintained.

Gehrman was sitting in his wheelchair, his gaze hidden by his misshapen hat. At first Alastair thought he was sleeping, but the moment he set foot inside he looked up at him, "The moon is close, it will be a long hunt tonight..." He half listened as the Old Hunter told him to seek out the chalice in Old Yharnam. He insisted that the town was abandoned, but Alastair knew about the beast sympathizer who protected the ruined city. As he nodded and turned away he quietly asked himself if he really needed to go back.

Not really feeling like being turned into a sieve just yet he decided he would go to the frontier. Returning to the Cathedral Ward Alastair fought his way up to the cathedral plaza, when he reached the giants they gave a loud groan and tried to bring their axes on him. Swiftly dodging he kept circling around to hack at them from behind until they fell. Taking the shortcut to the cathedral he tossed a throwing knife at the diseased crow then turned the corner and brutally slashed the brain sucker lying in wait. It let out a garbled yelp as it flailed its limbs trying to put itself out.

Down in the street below his fight drew the attention of a rifleman and the beast that killed him earlier. The rifleman trained his weapon on him so he backed away to get out of range. The beast gave an angry growl and ran after him, Alastair waited until it reached the ledge and he slashed at it from above, four swift strikes to the head and it collapsed. By then the rifleman lost interest and turned away, switching to its saber it kept watch over the street. Quietly jumping down he snuck up on the second rifleman and killed him. "Death to the minister!!" Another citizen yelled as he brandished his torch.

He was promptly shredded by a saw cleaver. Turning his attention to the trio in the tower he drew their attention one at a time with a throwing knife, and slaughtered them. Climbing up the ladder he paused to look over the empty plaza and catch his breath. The jangle of heavy shackles and ringing of a silver bell accompanied the rough wheezing and thudding steps of the church giant on the cathedral stairs. Jumping down on to the roof then to the ground he hurried for the lever and yanked hard on the handle, as the gate slowly creaked open he sprinted through the narrow alley and opened the next gate.

He climbed up the nearby ladder just as a pair of cathedral guards walked by. Oblivious to the hunter just above them they carried on towards the main gate. Sliding down he waited until they were gone. Carefully he crept up the stairs just behind the scythe wielding cathedral guard and let him go to his post around the corner. The nearby church giant was getting closer, so was the guards that missed him earlier. Not wanting to get caught he turned and ran towards the cathedral doors.

The remaining guards gave a hoarse warning cry before advancing towards him with their weapons raised. Cutting to the left he sprinted around the corner and didn't stop until he heard the crunching of dry grass under his feet. He looked behind him to see he wasn't being followed, with the coast clear he walked towards the tunnel leading to Hemwick Charnel Lane.


	9. The Witch of Hemwick

Just beyond a muddy, damp, tunnel was the carriage path to Cainhust. With the castle forsaken and the town abandoned it ended up as home to a group of wild women who tended the ever growing cemetery. Alastair expected to be met by rabid hounds and the mumbling riflemen that lay in ambush. But instead the woods were eerily silent, the scent of blood, charred wood, and rot filled the air. Nothing stirred except for a handful of dead leaves that crunched loudly under his boots. His heart pounded in his ears as his grip tightened on his weapons, something wasn't right.

Going right towards the bonfire he found the corpses of several riflemen and dogs all heaped into a pile. "Who could've done this?" Alastair said to himself. Expecting trouble he loaded his pistol and walked down the path to the gate. It was sitting open but the lantern nearby was still unlit, taking a moment he lit the lantern and paused to listen. The whispering of the wind, the rustling of dried grass, and the crackle of a campfire was all he could hear. The calm and quiet was deeply unsettling and made him feel uneasy. But despite this he was curious to know who was responsible for the carnage.

Strolling down the path he kept his weapons ready. Bodies of hags, dogs, crows, and trolls left a bloody trail up to the gate that was now open. The executioner trolls lay dead near the stone marker bearing Cainhurst's crest. Crouching down he examined the wounds on one, jagged slashes were carved through the armor and down into the flesh. Almost like....a saw cleaver?

Alastair flinched suddenly as something sharp whizzed past and cut his cheek. He raised his pistol to fire off a shot but stopped as he recognized his attacker. Henryk stood perched on a ledge with another throwing knife ready. "Henryk! Stop, I'm friendly!" He called. "Alastair? Forgive me, I can't see your face clearly from here. I didn't hurt you did I?" The old hunter sounded concerned. "I'm alright. Nothing serious. You're not getting that knife back though." He replied.

"Ah, I've got plenty of those. Come up here so I don't have to stand here and yell at you." Henryk said as he turned away and disappeared from view. Going up the sketchy stairs in the dilapidated tower he stepped out to see Henryk sitting by a campfire cleaning his saw cleaver. "It'll be quite cold tonight, sitting a bit by a warm fire will do some good." Alastair said as he sat down next to Henryk. "My joints have been telling me all week there will be a cold snap." Henryk groaned. "Used to be the beasts would almost hibernate in the winter, and us hunters could relax by a fire with a warm drink. It seems the more we hunt the less peace we have."

"It's the damn blood. It's a blessing that hides a horrible curse, it's very discovery was Yharnam's damnation." Alastair sighed as he set his weapon aside. "It's something Gascoigne and I learned the hard way. I've lost so many friends to the scourge, some I've even put down when they turned on their fellow hunters. And you already know Gascoigne's condition..." The old hunter grew silent for a moment as he paused to look over the condition of his weapon.

"So, what brings you to this ruined little village?" Henryk asked as his eyes locked onto Alastair again. "I'm here to kill the coven of witches in the old manor house." Alastair answered. "Hmm, so they're still alive after all. They've been here since the fall of Cainhurst nearly a century ago. I frequently visit the frontier but I don't bother with them." Henryk shook his head before glancing over at the old manor house. "What's your plan to deal with them?" He asked as he leaned back against a broken tombstone.

"Well, I first encountered them when I got hit in the face by a molotov and tumbled down the basement stairs..." Henryk laughed loudly earning a sharp glare from Alastair. "Pardon me, please continue." Henryk said quietly. "After getting a lobotomy from the witches I found out that they are weak to fire, so I'm going to use oil urns and visceral attacks. They move around a lot and summon these freaky shadow creatures that chase you." Alastair said as he fumbled with a loose lace on his boot. "How do you fight them?" Henryk asked as he reached for a flask on his belt. "I don't, I just run from them or throw a molotov if they get to close. They die if the witches die."

"Sounds like quite an interesting strategy." The old hunter chuckled as he passed the flask to Alastair, he made a face as he took a sip. "That's brandy I make at home, it works wonders on a cold night." Henryk's mask crinkled as he smiled. "If you don't mind, I think I'll join you on your hunt. Haven't gone cauldron tipping yet, it'll make quiet the tale for Gascoigne."

.............................

"Are you sure you can keep up?" Alastair asked as he pressed himself against the wall. "I'll give you some advice, beware an old man in a young man's profession. Especially if that old man could keep up with Gehrman's best apprentice." Henryk replied as he knelt down on the stairs to survey the basement. "You knew Lady Maria?" Alastair asked in surprise. "Yes, she was a brilliant hunter. It's too bad she's not here now..." Henryk trailed off with a hint of sorrow in his voice. He gave a tired sigh before standing up, just as he moved to go down stairs Alastair put a hand on his shoulder. "Wait, take this flame paper. Do you have enough vials?" He glanced at the old hunter's accouterment belt and saw very little room to carry anything. 

"I have plenty of vials." He replied as he took the yellowed scraps of paper and stuck them in a pouch on his belt. "Won't you need these?" Henryk asked as he raised an eyebrow at him. "No, my weapon has fire gems equipped." Alastair replied. "Haven't seen those in ages." Henryk said to himself as he headed down into the basement. Alastair sprinted towards the far corner as Henryk used a flame paper. As his weapon was engulfed in roaring flames a sinister light bubbled up from the floor in the center of the room.

A trio of sickly, disheveled creatures came up from below. With their blackened skin, wild wiry hair, and bulging milky eyes they were quite terrifying to observe. Henryk smashed the skull of the first, transformed his weapon and decapitated the second, then transformed his weapon once more to dispatch the last in a swift combo. They gave out a ghastly shriek as they collapsed and faded away.

Meanwhile Alastair was tearing a witch to shreds, the old hag adorned in bloodshot eyes shrieked and flailed under the hunter's merciless onslaught. After a minute the witch collapsed with a hoarse cry and went still. Alastair immediately darted away from her corpse and made for an area under the broken cat walk. Three more creatures appeared, Henryk threw one of his knives to draw them away. Taking the bait he lured them across the room and hacked them to pieces. As the last one fell Alastair finished the second witch and was searching for the last one.

Henryk felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, turning sharply he fired his pistol. But it did nothing to stop the orb of bluish light heading towards him. More creatures appeared as the old hunter struggled to free himself from the arcane trap that ensnared him. Alastair sprinted towards him but realized he wouldn't quite make it. Reaching behind him he grabbed for what he thought was a molotov and threw it, but his surprise was comical as he saw his flamesprayer hurdling across the room.

CLANK!!!

Henryk watched in astonishment as the weapon bounced off a creature's head. This distraction gave him the time to get free and he finished the creature off as it gawked at the metal canister lying at its feet. The remaining two were close by, one let out an angry shriek and charged forward while the other circled slowly. Henryk glanced over to Alastair as he rushed the last witch. Time to end this, he thought. Quickly he aimed his pistol at his attacker's head and fired, the creature fell to its knees stunned. Henryk drove his fist deep into its chest and yanked a handful of withered organs out. The creature went limp and collapsed, he turned towards the last one only to watch it flail its limbs wildly and drop dead.

Alastair was dripping with sweat and splattered with blood, he took a moment to catch his breath as he looked over the corpse at his feet. Across the room a lantern materialized from a nightmare haze, Henryk noticed it and walked over to take a look. It had been years since he'd seen one, it sat unlit and it's messengers absent. Kneeling down he searched it for a way to light it but found none. "Snap your fingers." Alastair called as he retrieved his flamesprayer and returned it to his belt.

Henryk snapped his fingers several times but nothing happened. "I think your lantern is broken." He said as he looked over his shoulder. Alastair snapped his fingers and the lantern lit up in a soft violet light. The tiny bell began to chime and the messengers appeared with their hands folded in prayer. "Guess it only works for you since you're bound to the Dream." Henryk muttered. Standing he took a moment to look around the room, up above was a statue of a forgotten goddess with her arms open in a welcoming gesture. Then he spotted the corpses tied up and suspended from the rafters. "So that's what became of them, the poor bastards."

"Who were they?" Alastair asked. "Villagers abducted by the witches, they would steal their eyes and use them in all manner of bizarre rituals." Henryk answered. Not far from where they stood was the cellar door, walking over he opened it and went downstairs. Alastair followed along, but he nearly walked right into the old hunter as he froze in the doorway. "Gods, Theodore." Henryk whispered in shock. "Theodore?" Alastair asked. "He was a friend, he called the frontier home for a long time. He vanished two decades ago during a hunt, Gas and I searched for him but never found him." Henryk replied as he approached the corpse.

With a quiet sigh he laid his hand on the dead man's shoulder. "Forgive me Theodore, had I thought you'd be here I would've came for you long ago." Stepping behind him he drew a knife and cut the ropes binding him to the chair. Carefully he scooped Theodore up and carried him up the stairs. Alastair picked up Henryk's weapon and followed him back out into the basement. "Make yourself useful boy and get a pyre ready." Henryk said over his shoulder.

...................................

Alastair stood quietly in the field outside the manor house as he watched Henryk dousing the pyre with an oil urn. Moments later it was blazing brightly, Theodore's body was swiftly consumed by smoke and flames as the old hunter reverently knelt and said a prayer. Bowing his head Alastair said a prayer of his own, but as he finished he sensed something. He and Henryk both looked over towards the gate to see Gascoigne casually strolling along, his expression was a mix of curiosity and boredom. "You didn't leave me a single beast, am I to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you do all the work?" Gascoigne asked in feigned annoyance.

"You've already cleared the streets in the Cathedral Ward, not to mention whatever you've killed in Central Yharnam. You've done more than your share." Henryk replied. Alastair was about to ask how he knew that but then he noticed the reddish sheen on the priest's duster. Gascoigne was coated in beast blood and the sticky slime of a brainsucker. "There were people sheltering in Oeden Chapel, I was uneasy leaving them there with the Cathedral Guard and church giants patrolling the streets." Gascoigne replied as he leaned on his axe.

"Still you need to be careful, don't forget the tragedy that was barely averted tonight. Take care lest you lose yourself again." The warning was clear in Henryk's voice. Alastair could see the twinge of sadness flicker across the priest's face. "Aye." Gascoigne replied somberly. After a moment of silence he looked over at the blazing pyre, "Who are ya' sending off?" He asked. "Theodore, one of my old hunting partners." Henryk replied quietly. "It's a damn shame he's gone, but he'll rest peacefully now." Gascoigne placed a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Lad? You're lookin' a bit fatigued. Go back to the Dream and rest up a bit. Henryk and I will tend to this here, we'll meet up later in Cathedral Ward." Gascoigne said as he glanced over his shoulder. "That sounds wonderful, I'll see you at Oeden Chapel." Alastair replied. Handing Henryk back his weapon he set off for the lantern and back to the Dream. When the pyre burned out Henryk and Gascoigne departed for the Cathedral Ward. As they walked back up the trail and into the cave separating Yharnam from Hemwick Henryk told Gascoigne of their fight.

"So, what do ya' think of this one? He seems like a good lad, but he's a bit strange." Gascoigne asked with a grin. "He's a highly skilled idiot." Henryk said flatly. "Never in all my years have I seen anyone throw their weapon at a beast." Gascoigne laughed loudly. "That reminds me of how you thought of me when we first paired up." Henryk raised an eyebrow. "I never said you were an idiot. I said you were a ham fisted brute with all the sense of a mentally defective jackass."

"And you still are." Henryk added as Gascoigne grinned ear to ear.


End file.
